


The Prince and The Falcon

by Achrya



Series: Samtember [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Samtember, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4821917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Achrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Steven meets a talking bird. (The Princess and the Frog, Sam/Steve style)</p><p>Samtember Prompt 2: Bird Prince</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince and The Falcon

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little fluffy thing.

 

Once Upon a Time, in the lovely Kingdom of Brooklyn, there was a prince named Steven. He was, unfortunately, prone to sickness and as such was often not allowed to roam outside of the castle’s grounds. As a result he spent much of his time in the small wooded area behind his home, usually in the company of his most loyal knights James and Natasha.

It was on one of those days that he found himself walking through the trees in search of his shield. They’d been sparring, something only Bucky and Tasha would dare do with him because of how ‘delicate’ he was, when Natasha had thrown it just a little too hard, deep into the trees. They’d decided to split up to look for it

He was passing under a tree when he saw it, a flash of red and blue amongst all the dark  green. He craned his neck to look up, scowling when he realized it was pretty far up and there were no branches low enough for him to grab to pull himself up. Too far up, even, for Tasha or Bucky to get to easily.  

He spent a few minutes throwing rocks and sticks up, trying to dislodge it, but he wasn’t even getting close.

He kicked the tree, swearing angrily.

“What’d that tree ever do to you?” A voice asked.

He whipped his head around, scanning the area frantically while reaching for the sword hanging from his belt. He didn’t know that voice and he knew everyone, every noble, knight, and worker on the castle grounds. If someone had snuck in-

There was the sound of wings fluttering then a bird swooped down in front of him, executed a flawless midair turn, then flapped its wings and glided towards the low branches on a tree near the one Steve had been assaulting. It was dark brown with speckles of rust red over its wings and breast, head a lighter brown, and eyes a piercing gold. The bird was huge, close to six feet from wingtip to wingtip,

“Some people might take offense to a guy going around, kicking their tree, hollering like that, and then acting like he intends to skewer them.” The voice was smooth and touched with amusement.

Steve’s mouth dropped open. “Wha...you. Bird.”

The bird looked unimpressed. “Yes. Me Bird. You, tiny human who kicked my tree.”

“Talking.”

The bird sighed. “Nevermind. I’ll just find a new place.”

Steve blinked then shook his head, the bird’s mournful tone kick starting his brain. He didn’t want to put anyone out, bird or otherwise. “NO! I...sorry. It’s just my shield is stuck in your tree? I didn’t mean to bother you and...this is very strange.”

The bird’s head cocked to the side then he took off with a great flap of his wings. Steve watched him as he climbed higher and, finally, vanished into the tree tops. He blinked again then rubbed a hand over his eyes. He’d had a few waking fever dreams in his time, hallucinations he could have sworn were real, but he wasn’t sick and talking animals was...new.

Leaves rustled then shifted. His shield moved, first lifting up and disappearing into the canopy then coming back down, clutched in the bird’s talons. He reached up, gripping the smooth rounded metal, and took the weight when it was released. He brushed his fingers over it, lingering on the scratches and grooves on its surface. It was, in all honesty, his most prized possession.

“Thank you.”

The bird landed again, fixing its intense gaze on him. “Not a problem.”

Steve nodded then stopped, biting his lower lip. “Can I do something for you? I mean...I don’t know what a person gives a bird for helping them?”

“No need.” The tone was almost wary, nervous.

Steve shook his head. “No, let me do something. Anything you want. My ma wouldn’t think much of me not returning a favor.”

Golden eyes peered at him unblinkingly then the bird bobbed its head. “Wouldn’t want to upset your ma. I could use a map. Getting cold around here and I need to find a new spot.”

Steve considered that for a moment; he could have had a map out here in no time, easy, but it was starting to get cold, even now with the sun out. Fall hit early and hard in their territory; the leaves were starting to fade from green to burnt oranges and reds and it would be downright frigid at night.

“Okay. Why don’t you come back to the castle with me and I’ll get you all the maps we have. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“I know who you are.” The bird laughed, a rumbling sound that melted into a screech at the end. “You can call me Sam.”

\--

Sam didn’t come back with him and by the next day Steve was starting to think he wouldn’t show at all. Then, as the sun was going down and he was sketching absently there was a tapping against the window of his sitting room, just loud enough to be heard over the rush of rain outside. He looked up, craning his next around. Sam was outside, perching on the windowsill, tapping his beak against the glass.

He unfolded himself from the couch he’d been curled up on, blanket falling to pool on the ground, and hurried over to let the bird in. The wind howled and a sheet of rain blew in along with Sam who, after making two lazy loops around the room, settled on the back of the couch.

Steve pushed the window back into place then turned around, plucking at his wet shirt. Sam didn’t say anything, busy rearranging his wet feathers, beak working over the places where they’d clumped together.

“You want a towel?” He asked.

Sam’s head swiveled towards him. “How do you propose I use a towel? A general lack of hands here.”  

Steve opened his mouth. Then shut it. The bird huffed, an amused noise, then went back to his careful grooming. Steve crossed over to his desk, grabbing the rolled up pieces of parchment and spreading them out, revealing maps of Brooklyn, the surrounding kingdoms, the country, and bordering lands.

He set books on the corners to keep the maps flat then shuffled back to the couch, grabbing his sketches and the blanket from the floor.

“You want something to eat?”

This got him a narrow eyed unblinking stare. A chill ran up Steve’s spin. “Unneeded. I’ll check out those maps and be out of your hair.”

“In this?” Steve pointed at the window and the downpour going on. “Stay until it lets up, at least. I don’t mind.”

The bird was silent for a moment then shook his wings out, flicking droplets of water through the air. “Okay.”  

He found a quail, already plucked and skinned, in the kitchen. Sam took it and and flew to parts undisclosed inside of the castle (though Steve didn’t hear anyone screaming about a bird being loose inside so he couldn’t have gone far) after insisting there was nothing fun about watching a bird eat, trust him on this. He came back when Steve was getting ready for bed, candles already blown out. After a short argument Steve convinced him to take up residence on the headboard for the night.  

The week passed and the rain continued coming down. Steve’s temperature rose and he found himself confined to his room. It was far from the first time and having Sam around helped with the usual boredom. Of course the bird hid anytime someone else came into his rooms, which seemed unnecessary in his opinion but it wasn’t his life. There had been an awkward moment where Natasha asked who she’d heard him talking to before he’d opened the door and he’d been forced to say he was talking to himself.

On the seventh day they looked at the maps again. Steve had never been outside of Brooklyn; not for lack of wanting or trying but at his mother’s insistence. Sam however had been all over the country and had stories to tell about things he’d seen and overheard. Steve listened wistfully and, around the time the sun started to go down, found himself wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest, smiling faintly.

“Being able to fly must be amazing. Just...picking up and going wherever you want, no worries about being told no.”

Sam, once again perched on the back of the couch, cocked his head to the side. “It is...there’s nothing like it. Being up there, riding the air, touching the clouds.”

Steve sighed. “I would give anything for that.”

He was tired of being locked up and forced to live his life in short ‘healthy’ stretches and long ‘sickly’ stretches. If he wings and could just fly away and be done with it all...that would be amazing.

“Don’t say that!” Sam’s voice became a high pitched shriek at the end, a sound that was all bird. His chest puffed up and his wings rustled in clear agitation. Steve sat up straight, handing coming up to...something. He got close to the bird then stopped, unsure.

If he had been a person he could have touched him, tried to calm him down but he wasn’t, was he? Steve was spending all his time talking to a bird who, honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t some kind of fever dream.

“You’re got a good thing here man. Somewhere to land, you know?” Sam said, voice dropping to a murmur. “Family and friends, people who care about you, right? That’s whats important, trust me.”

He sounded so sad, so lonely, that it was almost like physical pain to Steve. He swallowed then carefully put his hand on top of silky soft feathers. Sam’s head bobbed and those sharp eyes focused on him, seemed to be staring right through him.

Later, when he was in bed and Sam was on the headboard, head tucked beneath his wing, Steve couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“You don’t have a family?”

Sam was quiet for a long moment, so still that Steve started to wonder if he was really asleep.

“Not anymore. I had a friend, for a while, but...well. Not everyone is so welcoming to talking birds.”

Steve’s fingers twitched, a flash of anger running through him. He swallowed, trying to get a hold on it then pushed himself up so he was leaning against the headboard. “You could stay here if you wanted? I mean not inside all the time because I know that’s awful but...if it’s cold outside or raining? I could leave the window open.”

“Why? You don’t know me.”

He was right, of course. Sam was just some strange talking bird who’d done him a favor and yet he felt compelled to reach out and try to help. There was just something there, a warmth in everything the bird said and even in the way he moved, the just resonated with him.

There were people he’d known for years he couldn’t speak to so easily.

Steve shrugged. “I...you should have a place to come back to. If you want.”

\--

Something hit his bed hard enough to make the entire thing shake. Steve sat upright, rubbing at his eyes. An offended squawk rang out and then the flailing thing next to him went very still.

“Huh.”

Steve turned, trying to focus on the voice then scrambled back, letting out a sound that he would later insist was incredibly manly and most certainly not a high pitched shriek.

There was a man in his bed.

A very naked man in his bed.

“Yeah. I can relate.” The man said staring intently at his hands and Steve’s brain faltered, tripped over itself, tumbled wildly, and then rolled to a rather unceremonious stop.

“Sam?”

Eyes flicked up to him. “Looks like.”

Steve blinked. Then blinked again before letting his eyes take in the man sitting next to him. Brown skin, close cropped hair, dark brown unblinking eyes, and a completely blank expression. His gaze darted down completely against his will (that was his story and he was prepared to stick to it forever) to take in strong shoulder, a well defined chest, muscular arms, and-

Steve looked back up to find Sam still staring at him. He felt heat rushing to his face.

“Uh. You. What happened?”

“Oh you know,” Sam’s sounded almost bored. “Cursed by some angry wizard to live alone as a bird forever until someone was willing to genuinely care for me without knowing about the curse and in spite of the feathery issue. The usual.”  

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

Sam cocked his head, a gesture reminiscent of the way he’d moved as a bird. “Yeah.”

“Um.”

“Hey man, if you prefer the bird thing I’m not jud-”

“NO!” Steve shouted then put a hand over his mouth. “Err. I mean. This. This is fine. Great. It is Great. Or. I am going to stop talking now, okay?”

Sam blinked slowly, finally breaking the inhumane stare. “Okay.”

“Okay. So. uh.” Steve looked around. “What now?”

Sam’s lips twitched up in what looked like an involuntary gesture. Then he was leaning into Steve's space and pressing a light kiss to his lips. Steve hesitated a second then kissed back, reaching out to wrap an hand around Sam's arm.

And then the door burst open and Bucky and Natasha ran in, swords drawn. He could see the moment the situation registered in their brains in the way confusion colored their expressions and their swords lowered.

“Stevie, what the hell?”

Natasha’s smiled slowly, eyes narrowing in that ‘I have just gotten my hands on something amazing and you are probably going to suffer’ way of hers. “Hello Steve’s new friend.”

“I can explain this.” Steve insisted.

He absolutely couldn’t explain this.


End file.
